Blackwood's Woman (7 page)

"Good night."

"Goodbye." He lifted his hand, touching her face with his fingertips; the caress was soft, hesitant and quickly over. "I'll be back in Atlanta when you return from the reservation, so it could be months, probably Christmas, before I come back to the ranch."

"Goodbye, then. I—I won't see you at Christmas. I plan to go back to Virginia and spend Christmas with my mother."

"If we're very careful, we should be able to avoid ever seeing each other again," he said.

She nodded agreement. They stared at each other for a brief moment before J.T.

turned and walked away. Joanna took a deep breath, thankful that he hadn't kissed her, then went inside and locked the door behind her.

* * *

J.T. walked by the old bunkhouse on his way back from the stables shortly after daybreak the following morning. He hadn't expected to see Joanna, dressed in jeans and an oversize shirt, sitting on her porch. He had thought—hell, he had hoped—

he'd never see her again after last night. He couldn't quite put his finger on what it was, but there was something about Joanna Beaumont that sent up red warning signals inside his head. She meant trouble for him, and J.T. never let a woman cause him trouble.

"Good morning," she called out to him. "Is everything all right with Queen Nefertiti and her colt?"

J.T. walked over and placed his foot on the bottom step leading up to her front porch. "Mother and daughter are doing just fine. When I stopped by and told Washington he was the father of a beautiful filly, he acted as if he knew what I was talking about."

"Maybe he did." Joanna clutched a large, tan mug in her hands. "Sometimes I think animals are a lot smarter than we humans give them credit for being."

"Yeah, you're probably right." J.T. ran his right hand over his face, the overnight's growth of beard scratchy against his palm. "I need a shower and a shave and about ten hours of sleep." He eyed the mug she held. "But first I could use a cup of coffee."

She glanced into the pale brown liquid she'd been sipping on for the past few minutes, then looked down at J.T. "Come on up and have a seat. I'll go inside and get you a cup. How do you like it? Black?"

"Black, but with a little sugar. A teaspoonful will do."

"Okay. I'll be right back."

While she went inside to get his coffee, he walked up the steps and onto the porch, then slumped down in one of the cane-seated rockers. God, he was tired. But it was a good kind of tired. Here on the ranch he could work hard enough to physically exhaust himself, but he didn't have to face the stress and pressure of his job, which was far more exhausting—mentally as well as physically.

"This is high-octane stuff," Joanna said when she returned with his coffee. "If you're planning on going straight to bed, the caffeine could keep you awake."

He accepted the cup she offered, being careful not to touch her hand in the process. "I don't think anything will keep me from sleeping this morning."

Taking a swig of the coffee, he sighed. "Good. And just the right amount of sugar."

She sat down beside him in the other rocker and lifted her mug to her lips. She F:/…/Beverly Barton - Blackwood's Wo…

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10/31/2009 e sat down beside him in the other rocker Blackwood's Woman and lifted her mug to her lips. She hadn't expected to see J.T. this morning. She'd had no idea he'd stayed at the stables all night. But there was no reason to panic, no reason to be rude to him. By noon today, she'd be packed and ready to leave, and when she returned next week, J.T.

would be gone.

While she was away, she would have to come to terms with her foolish dream of finding real love and happiness in New Mexico. She had met the man who had inherited Benjamin's ring as she had inherited Annabelle's, and knowing J.T.

Blackwood had opened her eyes to reality. There would be no fantasy lover come to life for her. There would be no happily-ever-after for a pair of present-day lovers, any more than there had been for the star-crossed lovers over seventy years ago.

"Do you always get up so early?" J.T. asked.

"What?"

"It's barely daylight and you're up, dressed, and have already fixed coffee," he said. "Is this your normal routine?"

"Not always. But sometimes I get up this early and paint. There's nothing more glorious than a New Mexico sunrise, unless it's a New Mexico sunset."

"You're really in love with this country, aren't you? You've fallen under its enchanted spell like so many Easterners have done over the years."

"My great-grandmother fell in love … with New Mexico over seventy years ago, when she and her husband spent the summer here on an archaeological dig." Joanna finished her coffee, placed her empty mug on the table between the two rockers, then looked toward the east at the morning sky.

"Yeah, Elena told me the story, or what you told her." J.T. took another swig of coffee, then placed his half-full cup beside Joanna's. "Your great-grandmother was a married woman who had an affair with one of the natives, then left the guy and went back home to her safe, secure life in Virginia as the wife of a well-to-do college professor and renowned archaeologist."

Joanna's spine stiffened; she clutched the arms of the rocker, "There was a great deal more to their affair. They were truly in love. It broke her heart to leave him. She loved him as long as she lived." Joanna thrust her right hand in front of J.T.'s face.

"She wore his ring until the day she died."

"If she loved him so damned much, why didn't she leave her husband and stay here in New Mexico with him?" Grabbing Joanna's hand, J.T. twisted the silver-and-turquoise ring around and around on her finger. "I'll tell you why. Because Benjamin Greymountain was good enough to take as a lover, but not good enough to marry. He wasn't good enough for her to give up everything and spend her life with him. That's not love, Jo, that's—"

Jerking her hand out his, she jumped to her feet. "What would you know about love? Listening to you talk about our great-grandparents in that way is a sacrilege. If you had read Annabelle's diary, you wouldn't say such things. You'd know how deeply she loved Benjamin, and how completely she trusted his love for her."

J.T. stood, grabbed Joanna and whipped her around to face him. "You're right. I don't know the first thing about love, but I know all about lust, all about how good it feels to scratch an itch that's driving you crazy." Lowering his head, he nuzzled the side of her face with his nose.

No, no! her mind screamed. She wasn't going to let him do this. She wasn't going to let him reduce the beautiful love Benjamin and Annabelle had shared into some meaningless sexual affair. And she wasn't going to let him prove his point by showing F:/…/Beverly Barton - Blackwood's Wo…

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10/31/2009 ingless sexual affair. And she wasn't going to Blackwood's Woman let him prove his point by showing her that the two of them felt those same animalistic urges.

She struggled against his hold, a feeling of panic building inside her. J.T. clutched her waist, pulling her up against him. She gasped when she felt his arousal. "We could have what Benjamin and Annabelle had, if that's what you want. We could spend the next week making love night and day, and then I'll go back to Atlanta and you can write in your diary about how exciting it was, having an Indian lover."

"Let go of me." She glared at him, hating him. Hating him for making light of their great-grandparents' love. Hating him for stirring passion to life within her.

"You don't want the kind of affair your beloved ancestress had?" J.T. taunted her.

"Are you saying you didn't come to Trinidad—" he yanked her hand up, entwined their fingers and pulled their hands between their faces so that they could see their matching rings "—with all kinds of romantic notions of a Navajo man fulfilling your sexual fantasies?"

"You don't know anything about me. About my dreams. Or my fantasies."

He lowered his head. She held tightly to his hand, trying to keep their clasped hands in front of her face. He pulled their hands down, leaned closer and brushed a light kiss across her lips. She stiffened.

"I know you want me—as much as I want you," he said.

She didn't fight him, made no protest when he kissed her. She had thought the kiss would be harsh and cruel and savage. But it wasn't. He took her lips with force, but it was a sweet, tender power that swept through her body like a strong but nondestructive wind.

She returned the kiss, opening her mouth, allowing his invasion. Tingling warmth spread from her breasts to the core of her femininity. When he cupped the back of her head with one hand and caressed her hip with the other, pushing her firmly against his hard sex, she slipped her arms up around his neck. She had never known anything like this raging hunger inside her, this overwhelming need to possess and be possessed.

Just when her knees weakened and she trembled with passion, J.T. pushed her away. He stood several inches from her, his breathing ragged, sweat beads dampening his forehead.

Reaching down, she gripped the arm of her rocker for support as she stared at him, not knowing what to say or do. She wanted to lash out at him, accuse him of something horrible, but she couldn't. She had been a willing participant, her need as wild as his.

"Go to the reservation, Jo. Paint your noble savages and your magnificent sunrises and sunsets. But find yourself another Indian to take as a lover. I'm not in the market for a summer fling with a bored debutante."

He glared at her. She stood ramrod straight, unmoving, her face an unemotional mask. When he turned and stomped down the steps, out into the yard and toward the main house, Joanna stayed on the porch, silent and still, until he disappeared from her view. Then she released the tight control she'd been determined to keep over her emotions. Tears filled her eyes. The unbearable pain in her chest burst free when she gulped in a deep breath of air and let out an agonized moan.

Chapter 4

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J
oanna placed her art supplies in the back of the Jeep, then lifted her small floral suitcase and her matching overnight bag. She'd packed light, taking two pairs of jeans, two blouses, a nightgown and several changes of underwear. She would stay with Elena's cousins, Kate and Ed Whitehorn, who had opened their home to her on several previous occasions. She had telephoned them this morning, apologizing for giving them such short notice, and found Kate delighted to have company.

Joanna glanced down at her watch as she stepped up on the porch. Eleven-twenty.

She would double-check everything in the house, making sure no electrical appliances had been left on, then she'd fix herself a sandwich and eat lunch before running up to the main house to say goodbye to Elena She prayed J.T. would still be asleep so she wouldn't have to see him again.

The telephone rang just as she entered the house. Leaving the front door open, she dashed across the living room. She picked it up on the fifth ring, just in time to keep her answering machine from being activated.

"Hello," Joanna said. "Joanna?"

"Mother?"

"Yes, dear. How are you?" Helene Beaumont asked.

"I'm fine." It wasn't like her mother to call unexpectedly. Senator Helene Caldwell Beaumont was the most organized person Joanna had ever known. Her mother called twice a month, at nine-thirty on Sunday morning. "Is something wrong? Did Uncle Peter have another heart attack?"

"No, dear. Peter is just fine."

"Then what's wrong? Why are you calling?"

"I—I don't quite know how to tell you this, but—"

"For heaven's sake, Mother, will you just tell me? You're scaring me to death, acting this way." Her mother never stuttered, never hesitated, never postponed till tomorrow what could be accomplished today.

"That policeman, Lieutenant George, came to my office earlier today."

At the mention of Lieutenant George, every nerve in Joanna's body screamed, every muscle tightened. Milton George had been in charge of her rape case and all the other cases involving the serial rapist who had attacked a total of twelve women in the Richmond area before being arrested.

"What did Lieutenant George want?"

"I thought about flying out there to tell you, but—"

"Dammit, Mother, just tell me!"

"Lenny Plott has escaped from prison." Helene let out a long sigh.

"But that's not possible." Joanna couldn't believe the monster who had brutally attacked her was free and running around loose. "He's in a maximum-security prison. It would have been impossible for him to escape."

"I know what a shock this must be for you, dear, but I'm afraid it's true. Lenny Plott did escape. And—and I'm afraid there's more."

"More?"

"He escaped less than forty-eight hours ago and he's already found Melody Horton."

"What do mean he's 'already found' Melody?" Melody was the twenty-year-old college student who, along with Joanna and two other victims, had testified against F:/…/Beverly Barton - Blackwood's Wo…

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10/31/2009 e student who, along with Joanna and two Blackwood's Woman other victims, had testified against their rapist and sent him away to prison for the rest of his natural life.

"She was kidnapped. A neighbor recognized the man she drove off with. She identified him from police photographs. It was Lenny Plott."

"Have the police found her?"

"Yes." Helene's voice was so low, Joanna could barely hear her.

"Is she…?"

"She was strangled to death," Helene said, her words spoken unquaveringly.

"Lieutenant George wanted you and Claire and Libby to know that Plott is on the loose and has already killed… Please, come home, dear. Your life is in danger. Come home and I'll hire a bodyguard for you."

"Lenny Plott has no idea where I am now," Joanna said. "He doesn't know I moved to New Mexico and he doesn't know where Claire and Libby are. I don't even know where Libby is."